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You Know, You Know, No, You Don't, You Don't
Chapter 5 of Fuega Fuega. Prologue There are two very different words that can describe relationships: friendship and acquaintanceship. Friendship is when you really care about someone, no matter what happens, and you will die to defend them no matter what. Acquaintanceship is where you will fight with someone and help them, but you may not exactly die for them. And if it would benefit you or your acquaintance, you would turn on each other. When I was a kit, I got friendship and acquaintanceship mixed up. Though the word "friend" was never used in Skull's group, I thought that was my relationship with the other cats, that they would die defending me. Well, I didn't think that so much at first-I was still worried that someone would eat me. But we were warned many times to die to defend Skull. So my little kit logic told me that we would die for the other cats, right? And they would die for us? How very wrong I was. Dumpster Mates During the part of my life in which I was a member of Skull's gang, I met many cats, some of them born into the gang, others that were strays and housecats that would later join it. But for now I will only tell you about a few. At the time when we joined, there were only three other cats in dumpster two, the one where Peach, Vulture, and I stayed. There was a pair of twin tortoiseshell she-cats, Ink and Itch, that weren't even twelve moons old but looked like they could rip me to shreds. They did everything together-eating, sleeping, even walking the same pawsteps-and they would always finish each other's sentences in voices that were higher than Skull's. Despite scaring me, their story of how they got to the group gave me a little hope for Ella; like my sister, they had ran away from their family at a young age. Ink and Itch had only stayed in Skull's group for three moons, but they had already done lots of hunting and other chores for him, and they would take every chance to brag about how they would soon be living in dumpster six with Skull and his favorite she-cats. Our other denmate-or, rather, dumpstermate-looked much more terrifying but was probably the most stable cat in Skull's ranks. His name was Twitch, and he had grown up as a farm cat on a ranch way out of Twolegplace. One day, while chasing one of the barn rats, he ran into a pasture and straight in the way of a galloping horse. "What's a horse?" I asked Ink and Itch. See, Twitch actually hadn't been the one to tell us this story; while he, along with Peach and a few other low-ranking cats, was out hunting, the terrible twins took the opportunity to chat about it to me and my brother in their most gossipy voices. "And I thought you couldn't get any more stupid," sneered Vulture, pausing from licking his paw. "A horse is a type of monster, like the ones we saw at our old home." "Close enough, I suppose," hissed Ink. "They're a bit smaller than those monsters." "But they have odd little feet that can do more damage than claws when they strike you," added Itch. "And that's exactly what happened to Twitch." "Kicked him right in the face. That's why he's all dented and scarred." "Knocked him out too. When he woke up and realized what had happened, it scared the wits out of him." "I've never seen Twitch all emotional before, but I bet it was a sight. Anyway, he was taken to the vet." "They used their Twoleg magic to fix him all up, but they wanted to cut him, too, poor fellow." "Wait," I interrupted, frowning. "Why would they want to cut him up again after they had just fixed his wounds?" The twins glanced at each other. "We don't mean that kind of cut, scrap," Ink murmured slowly. "We mean they were going to stop him from being a tom," Itch mewed quietly, shuttering. "They use their Twoleg magic and make cats all lazy and wimpy." "And they can't sire or give birth to kits." "Aye, they do that all the time to housecats." "Apparently, none of the cats on the ranch were cut." "But then the vet told Twitch's owners to have him cut." "Why?" asked Vulture. Itch shrugged. "I don't know. If vets got their way, all the cats in the world would be cut, at least the housecats would." "We're not sure why," added Ink. "Could be they think that there are too many cats in the world." "Or they want to make them all lazy." "Or just so they can keep them under control." "The vet was able to persuade Twitch's housefolk somehow." "Yeah, got them to agree to cutting him right then and there." "Glad Skull doesn't have Twoleg magic." "Yeah, wouldn't want him doing that to us." "I don't think he would bother with the she-cats, though, just cut the other toms in the group and he'll be fine." "Where did you learn all of this?" I wondered aloud. "Did Twitch tell you?" "Of course not! He hates us!" "The only time he opens his mouth is to tell us we're right annoying." "He arrived last moon, and he was interrogated by Skull." "Skull interrogates all the new toms that join the group, so he makes sure they won't run off with his mates." "Twitch couldn't do that, of course, since he was cut." "Yeah, but Skull didn't know that." "Right. Anyways, we were listening to their conversation." "Technically we weren't supposed to, but what Skull doesn't know won't hurt him." "Anyways, Twitch was cut by the vet, and as soon as he recovered he left the ranch." "He didn't trust Twolegs anymore. Left them and the other cats and went off to find a new life." "One of the guard scouts, Curdle, found him living in an abandoned field not far from the ranch and convinced him to come to Skull's group." "Twitch wasn't sure about living near Twolegs, but eventually he decided to join." "Skull was a little hesitant about letting him in after he found out he was cut. Thought he wouldn't be a good fighter." "But a cut tom couldn't steal any mates, and Twitch was still pretty tough, so he was welcomed here." I thought about that, as Twitch came back from hunting and I looked at the great scar on his face. But what was the cat behind the scar? I wasn't sure; he rarely spoke at all, even when you talked to him. Sometimes he would stare out into space like he was in some sort of trance. But he seemed okay enough. Whenever he was full from eating a piece of prey, he would give it to Vulture. And when Vulture tried to hog it, Twitch would gently push him away like it was no trouble, as though he couldn't feel my brother's sharp claws and teeth. I guess Twitch had learned to endure pain after what he experienced. I didn't know as much about that cats outside of dumpster two. Every hunting party, no matter the rank of the cats in it, had one guard scout that always came with them. Hurricane said it was for "protection reasons", so that the "newbies" wouldn't get hurt just when they had joined the group. Normally, Hurricane wasn't the guard scout to come with us; Skull gave that job to the lower-ranking ones. One frequent guard scout with our hunting group was Curdle, the youngest guard scout. I assumed he was Skull's son, because he had a similar once-white matted coat like the leader, and most of the guard scouts were Skull's children. Like Twitch, Curdle didn't speak much, but that was more because he had a very bad temper. Even when he didn't talk, Curdle seemed to have this cloud of anger around him. And when he did speak, it was in a harsh voice, high-pitched like Skull's but edged with a deep growl of hatred. The cats he spoke to would often find themselves pinned down by him, with claws at their throats. Several cats told me that these attacks happened once or twice a moon, but in my first moon there, I only saw one. We were hunting with some cats from dumpsters one and three in the late afternoon, and one cat spoke out. His name was Orb, a white tom with black patches all over him. He had only joined the group a week ago, but I already knew that you could tell the type of tom he was. In his big eyes there was a mischievous glint in them that even a kit such as I could tell that he was looking for trouble. Anyways, on that day, we passed by the back of the pet store. It was an odd little Twoleg nest that had lots of different animals that were sold as pets for Twolegs to take home, like housecats. They also sold mice for the pet snakes to eat, but sometimes the feeble mice would die before Twolegs would bring them home for their snakes to eat. Then the Twolegs that lived in the pet store-I'm not sure if they really lived there, but they spent a lot of time there-would leave the mice and some housecat food behind the shop for us to eat. I had taken a bite of the housecat food and wondered how they could live off of that stuff, but the mice weren't that bad. They had a certain fakeness to them, like the housecat food, but they were alright. So we walked by the back of the store, and there was a single mouse and several bowls of housecat food out. "Halt!" shouted Curdle. Instinctively the other cats, including me, stopped in our tracks. We had learned the rules to follow a guard scout's orders, however annoying they were. Curdle trotted forward and hooked the plump mouse on one of his claws, examining it closely. "Hey, who says you can eat that?" growled Orb. He trotted up to the guard scout and snatched the mouse right from his claws. There was a yowl, and soon the two toms were nothing but fur, claws, and blood. Unintentional Ideas "Shouldn't one of them be punished?" asked Peach. We were back at Skull's alley. Most of the cats in the hunting party had shifted off to their respected dumpsters, hoping to not answer any questions. Curdle and Orb had finished licking their wounds and stared angrily at each other before going into their own dens. Skull had decided to visit us in dumpster two, which apparently was a surprise to the other cats; Ink and Itch had gasped together, and Twitch murmured, "Well," which was a yowl of shock for him. It seemed as though Skull was only visiting to talk to Peach. "Their punishment was their fight together," Skull answered. "They learned that arguing for food leads to injuries. If they continue to fight, that's their choice. Orb should have known better than to attack a guard scout, and Curdle shouldn't have made the other cats stop so it wasn't a fair fight. He'll be relieved of his guard scout duties. As for Orb, he'll need to go." "You mean he's going to leave the group?" mewed Vulture. "Yes, I suppose." Skull's black eyes turned to me. "What do you think Fuega?" I looked around at the other cats. "But…isn't it a little mean to kick him out for only one thing?" I bristled as Skull's laughter pierced the air. "What would you know? You're just a kit!" The same laughter seemed to echo from the other cats around me, Ink, Itch, Peach, even Vulture. Only Twitch sat there silently, watching me, but no one seemed to notice. Why are they laughing? my eyes asked him silently. He asked for my opinion. He turned his head to the side, so I could see the very scarred part of his face. Being asked is a blessing that I never got, he seemed to say. Choose your answers wisely. Visions and Reality I hadn't had any "vision" dreams for a while, but that night I had the strangest of them all. I was in the middle of the story I had told of Ella getting killed by a monster. We were fighting over a scrawny rat, and I felt myself changing. My fur went from calico to matted white, and Ella's went from ginger to black and white. Then I was chasing her, and she ran into the street, and I woke up just as a monster appeared in front of her. I could hear the sound, the mix of a cat's yowl and the monster's roar. I woke up, the sound still echoing in my ears. Trying not to make much noise, I climbed up the side of the dumpster and looked outside. There, on the street just outside of the alleyway, was a broken body of a cat lying very still. I could just make out the black and white patches on his fur. And standing on the side of the street was a big cat with a shaved head and ears. Skull's eyes seemed to reflect the dark night when he turned to me. "You gave me a good idea, Fuega," he meowed. Then he disappeared into his own dumpster. I hung on the wall of my own rubbish container for the rest of the night, and for the first time since I had come here, I thought of my father. I wondered if Ella had found him, and if they were living in a much less confusing place than this.